Angel of Smoky Hollow Read Free Page B

walk in the dark where he could become attuned with nature, and forget the curve balls life some times threw.

CHAPTER TWO
    A NGELICA ARRIVED at the store several minutes before ten the next morning. The two older men she’d seen yesterday were both in the same spot. Had they spent the night there?
    â€œGood mornin’,” one said.
    â€œMorning, miss,” the other echoed.
    She greeted them both and then turned to look down the road. She hadn’t a clue in which direction Kirk would come from. Probably not from the B&B as he had walked back toward the store when he left yesterday. She hoped he’d meant it when he offered her a ride. She hadn’t a clue how to get to Bryceville on her own.
    â€œNice day,” one of the men said.
    â€œBeautiful,” she agreed. Then took a moment to really appreciate the morning. It was already warm, but not as hot as it had been yesterday. The tall trees were widespread, shading a good portion of the store and parking lot. She could hear birds trilling in the branches. She tried to remember the last time she’d noticed birds singing in the morning. She rarely opened the windows in her high-rise apartment. And when she did, it was traffic noise she heard, not birds. Her parents’ home in Boston had huge elm trees in the yard, yet she couldn’t remember ever listening to birds. How odd. Was she so oblivious to what was going on around her?
    A low rumble sounded to her left and she looked that way.In only a moment a motorcycle roared into view, stopping when it reached the porch. The throaty purr of the engine filled the morning air. Taking off his helmet, the driver grinned at her.
    â€œReady to go to Bryceville?” Kirk asked.
    She stared at him and at the big black-and-chrome motorcycle, fear and fascination warring. “On that?” she almost squeaked. She’d never ridden a motorcycle in her life! What if it crashed? She flexed her fingers. What if she spilled onto the pavement and damaged her hands?
    â€œI have an extra helmet,” he said, unstrapping it from the back and holding it out to her.
    Angelica stared at it for a moment. She looked into his eyes which seemed to challenge her. The seconds ticked by. No one spoke. Only the trilling of the birds filled the silence. Almost fatalistically she stepped off the porch. She had come into a different world. She had wanted something different and found it—in spades.
    Hesitating another moment, she took the helmet, put it on. Then, following his instructions, she climbed on to the powerful motorcycle. Once seated, she felt the vibration beneath her, the warmth of the man in front of her.
    â€œHold on,” he said, putting his own helmet back on.
    When she hesitated, he reached back and brought both her arms around his waist, slapping one hand over the other. It was impersonal and expeditious. But it brought her slam up against his back. She felt every muscle as he moved and pushed the bike back from the store. She didn’t view it as impersonal, this was very personal. Her body against his, her arms around his hard stomach. She couldn’t breathe. She was so aware of his strong body, her blood pounded through her veins.
    He gave the two old men a wave. In seconds they were flying down the narrow country road.
    Angelica caught her breath in fear, closed her eyes and tightened her grip on the one solid thing in her world rightnow, Kirk Devon. His entire body was rock solid. His stomach muscles were like iron. His back muscular and hard. Once she caught a breath again, she risked opening her eyes. She rested against his back, head turned sideways. Slowly she lifted her head and peered over his shoulder. Trees whipped by. The black pavement seemed to unfold like a ribbon before them, curving and twisting, opening up straight ahead for long stretches before diving back into the thickness of the trees.
    Gradually the fear morphed into elation. She felt as if they teetered